Changing Tides
by Amara.Roman
Summary: A/U Bulma has been sworn to marry Prince Yajirobe since the day she was born. But when the Saiyans show up, demanding repairs and recruiting fighters, Bulma sees their unwelcome visit as a golden opportunity.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer—I don't own Dragonball/Z/GT or anything associated with it. I just like fanfiction. :P

CHAPTER ONE

It took a couple of hours, but Bulma finally managed to stop crying. Now, as she sat motionless on the plush bench of her vanity, she resigned herself to emptiness. She was hallow, blank… mentally and emotionally unavailable.

This was the way she had to be—the only way she could think of to make it through the day. Her life was over. There would be no more joy. No more laughter. No more knowing glances full of love and desire from her most trusted friend and lover.

She was doomed to be emotionally alone and miserable—a fate that was chosen for her long before she had the ability to fight back.

Staring at her reflection, she saw the precise moment when she chose to give up. She saw it in the way her face went pallid, and in the way the light left her eyes. She didn't even blink when someone tapped lightly on her door, nor did she move to let them in. Instead, the door swung open from the other side and the blond cloud of happy that was her mother let herself in.

"Hello, dear. Are you feeling alright? You've been shut up in your room all day."

"I'm fine," she lied. She tried to force a smile onto her lips, but was unable to do it.

Bunny wasn't fooled. "I know something's the matter. You've always been a horrible liar." She studied her daughter closer, looking right at the tear tracks on her cheeks and the puffiness around her eyes. "Are you nervous about the wedding tomorrow?"

Nervous wasn't the word Bulma would have chosen. She would have went with something more along the lines of… disgusted. Repulsed. Absolutely horrified. Who wouldn't be if their future husband was Prince Yajirobe? She gave an involuntary shudder and said, "Yeah. A little."

Her mother smiled, flashing her dimples, and sat on the bed with her daughter. "Are you nervous about the wedding? Or the wedding night?"

Bulma managed to mask her wince, but her gag reflex was dangerously close to giving her away. Luckily, Bunny mistook her reaction for embarrassment instead of revulsion.

"It's alright, dear. I was nervous on my wedding night too. I'm sure Prince Yajirobe will be aware of your worries, just like your father was with mine."

"Ew, Mom!"

"Well you must have realized by now that your father and I have had se—"

"Mom! Mom I know. There's no need to discuss it." She said hurriedly. The truth was that the thought of having to sleep with Yajirobe was more disturbing than the thought of her parents doing the deed. It was something straight out of her nightmares.

"Well I think we should talk, Bulma. You need to know what to do."

"What to do?" she repeated, feeling the blood drain from face. "About what?"

Bunny threw up her hands in exasperation. "The wedding night, you silly girl. This isn't some bumpkin off of the streets. This is a prince! He'll have certain expectations."

"Please don't make me listen to this."

But it was too late. Bunny was already launching into her informal sex ed class and Bulma was stuck. She could have easily told her mom that she wasn't a virgin. She could have admitted that she and Yamcha began sleeping together when she was sixteen. But her parents would flip. Not only because she lost her virginity at such a young age, and not only because she lost it to Yamcha—one of the hired help meant to protect her—but because she was sworn to marry Prince Yajirobe ever since the day she was born. To hear that he would not be her one 'true love' would cause a panic among the people.

What if the prince found out and didn't want her anymore? It would be a blessing for Bulma, but the people would suffer.

The good prince and his family have been squandering food and valuable resources for as long as they've been in power. The people were growing weak and weary, dying of starvation and living in hovels. They saw it as a blessing when the daughter of their local scientist was accepted as a suitable queen. With her blue hair and fair skin, she was seen as a rarity, sure to catch the eye of the royal family—something that she did with flying colors.

Since then her father and mother took extra care to give her a proper upbringing. They exposed their daughter to the poor. She witnessed all of their pain and suffering. They did this on purpose so that she would know of their needs, and deliver them to salvation as their queen. She was to be their savior.

Still… Yajirobe?

She shuddered again.

* * *

><p>"More meat!" Yajirobe bellowed to the servers.<p>

They'd brought out every type of dish they could think of to appease the young prince's ever growing appetite, but the majority of them contained fruits and vegetables—something that Yajirobe was known to despise.

They scuttled in and carried the vegetables away, replacing them with chicken wings, briskets, and rib eyes. The royal family dug in, smearing grease across their faces and relishing in their gluttonous ways.

Unbeknownst to them, a line was forming from the back entrance of their kitchen. Men, women and children were accepting the discarded fruits and vegetables from the staff and disappearing into the night. They came as far as West City, taking food away in cart loads to feed the hungry along the way.

"Meat!" The king hollered, making them all jump. Two of the servers grabbed more trays and walked brusquely into the dining hall. When one tray was emptied, it was immediately replaced with a full one.

It was then, in the middle of their scurry, that the ground began to shake. At first it was brushed off as part of their erratic movements, but when the shaking evolved into a full blown earthquake, the staff slowed and looked skyward with confused expressions.

Of course, the royal family was so busy stuffing their faces that they didn't notice anything out of the norm until their platters and goblets began to fall to the ground. The queen yelped and pulled Yajirobe into her embrace while the King cowered under the table and spit out orders for their warriors to find the cause of the disturbance.

The guards snapped to attention and ran out the door in two, almost perfect lines.

No sooner had they exited, the ground stopped shaking and everything became very still. Yajirobe poked his nose over the edge of the table and cast his beady eyes around the room. "Is it over? Did they kill it?"

Silence.

Everyone got back to their feet and the royal family took their seats at the table.

Yajirobe had taken his first bit of steak when the dining hall doors bursts open and all of the royal guard flew in—literally. They were flying in… backwards. No, Yajirobe realized, not flying in. They were being _thrown_ in!

They landed in awkward positions sprawled out on the ground. Two of them hit the table and the force behind the throw was enough to snap the gold encrusted oak in half.

The queen squealed and flung herself to the far wall, dragging her only son with her. Yajirobe was turning blue in the face from lack of air because of how tightly his mother held him.

When the dust cleared, the royal family came face to face with seven of the tallest, most well-built men they'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. The one on the far right cleared his throat and said, "All bow to his majesty, King Vegeta and his son, Prince Vegeta."

The king stared, his face ashen, for a solid thirty seconds before he could comprehend what the man had said. "What? You look here, you bunch of roid addicted freaks. I'm the only king around here!"

King Vegeta studied him closely with cold eyes. Stumpy legs, large mid-section, beady eyes and appalling personal hygiene. "You must be joking."

"Hey watch it," Yajirobe warned, waddling to his father's side. He opened his mouth to say more, but one of the larger men—the one with hair like a pineapple—was suddenly in his face, hauling him off of the ground by the throat.

"Never." He growled. "Talk. To. My. King. That. Way." He enunciated each word, bringing his face closer to Yajirobe's with each syllable.

King Vegeta chuckled. "Radditz, put him down. Didn't you hear? They're _royalty_." There was mock humor dripping from the last word.

All of them laughed. The smaller Vegeta _hmphed_, but said nothing else.

"My apologies sire," Radditz said with a bow of his head, then dropped Yajirobe as if he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

King Vegeta smiled at the Earth's royal family. "You'll have to forgive my warriors. They get a little sensitive sometimes. I am King Vegeta. This is my son. We're here seeking repairs for our ship."

"Your ship?" Yajirobe repeated. "What are you babbling about? We're nowhere near water."

They laughed again, none of them bothering to muffle their voices while poking fun at Yajirobe for his mental incompetence. Finally, the one named Radditz pointed out the window to a larger circular structure on the front lawn. It towered over the palace and looked to be made of some sort of metal.

"Is that," the queen began, shakily getting to her feet. "Is that a _space_ ship?"

King Vegeta beamed. "It is. She's one of the finest ships in the north quadrant. Unfortunately we were forced to head straight through a meteor shower by… some unforeseen circumstances… and we've taken on damages. We require your assistance for repairs."

"What the Hell?" The king growled, bowing up in the chest. "You can't just barge in here and demand that we fix your piece of junk scrap metal. We've got better things to do than to worry about some space project gone wrong. And who's funding this project by the way. I know I certainly didn't sign off on it. Explain yourself."

The young prince had heard enough. Not only were these Earthlings alarmingly stupid, but they were disrespectful as well. "Enough," he said in a low whisper. Any other man would have been ignored. But Prince Vegeta was no man. He was a Saiyan. One of the most feared Saiyans in the universe at that. A sidelong glance from him was enough to silence even the strongest of races, and humans were no exception. "You will provide us with the help we need, or else this entire rock of a planet will be destroyed."

"Oh yeah?" Yajirobe countered. "That'll be a nice trick. And I suppose you'll be doing the destroying on your own, little man?"

The Saiyans took a collective breath and held it there, all eyes watching their prince.

"Little. Man?" He repeated. "Little man!"

Energy, fire hot and electric blue, shot out, engulfing his entire body. He clenched his fists, ground his teeth, and fought the beast inside that tempted him to squish Yajirobe like the bug he was. But somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that this act would displease his father. Not because it was bad for foreign relations, but because King Vegeta was trying to rally all of the support he could for the looming war against Frieza.

In the end, Vegeta's fury won out, and without thinking, he aimed his index finger at one of the random servants on the side wall and fired. A beam of energy streaked across the room and pierced the servants head like a hot knife through butter. It happened so quickly that the man remained standing for a few seconds while his body processed the fact that his brain was no longer intact, then he fell over.

With his anger appeased, Prince Vegeta slowly and deliberately moved his finger towards Yajirobe, taking careful aim. "My father has requested your assistance. Will you comply? Or do I need to set another example?"

Yajirobe swallowed the lump in his throat. He'd never seen anything like this before. Tall, muscular men who could shoot beams out of their fingers? "You're not human," he asked—more of an accusation than a question.

"No," the tallest of the seven answered. "We're Saiyan warriors, and you've pissed off the prince."

"Nappa," the king warned.

"Will you aid us or not?" Vegeta demanded, his temper flaring again.

A small blue light began to form at the tip of his finger and Yajirobe hurried to answer. "Yes, yes of course we will. Bulma will be here tomorrow. I'm sure she can fix your ship."

One of Vegeta's inky brows arched. "She? You're tasking a woman to repair our ship?"

"Yes. She's the daughter of one of the greatest scientists Earth has ever known. Some say she's smarter than her father. She's coming for our wedding tomorrow."

This caught Vegeta's interest. "You're to be married to this woman?"

"Yes." Yajirobe said. "Sir," he added as an afterthought.

Vegeta lowered his finger, mulling over Yajirobe's words. This new development could work out in their favor. Clearly, this human must have some sort of feelings for the woman if he was tying himself to her so early in life. She could prove to be a useful tool in making sure the job gets done right and in a timely manner. Finally, he said, "If she fails, I will kill her."

Yajirobe bowed. "Sounds fair to me."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer—I don't own Dragonball/Z/GT or anything associated with it. I just like fanfiction. :P

**Author's Note—I am still trying to figure this site out! Every time I put in page breaks, they disappear (which is annoying) and I can't find where I go to respond to reviews! SO! Just so everyone knows… I am not ignoring your reviews on purpose. I am just computer illiterate. **

CHAPTER TWO

Darkness swallowed her. Though she couldn't see, she could feel herself tumbling farther down into the depths, slicing her flesh on the jagged edges of the blackness. She tried to scream out several times, but no sound escaped her lips.

"Bulma!" she heard someone scream. She knew that voice—she knew the rough, smug crescendo of it. It was Prince Yajirobe.

She looked up and saw him peering down at her, a turkey leg in one hand and a frothy drink in the other. She never imagined that she'd ever be so happy to see him. "Help me get out of here!" She pleaded.

"Are you kidding me?" he snorted. "How do you expect me to get all the way down there? What if I slip and break my neck?"

Fury began to rise in her chest, but it was buried under thick layers of undiluted fear. He wouldn't really leave her down here would he? "Find some rope! And some men to haul me up."

He took another pull from his drink, paused, and thought about her plan. "That sounds like a lot of work."

"Yajirobe!"

"Sorry, Bulma. You're on your own."

And then he was gone, fading away into the distance and muttering about never wanting to be a Prince in shining armor.

"YAJIROBE!" Her voice echoed back to her and rang in her ears. She screamed for him so many times that it grew coarse and raspy. How could he leave her here to die? Was he really so selfish and callous that he would turn away from her when she needed him most? The answer reverberated in her head before she finished thinking the question—Yes. He was.

"Don't cry, pretty little babe," someone—no, something—hissed in her ear. She turned and found herself on the receiving end of one of the iciest glares she'd ever seen. The creature had white skin, with pink and purple bands of muscles wrapped around him. His eyes were the color of blood, and two horns sat atop his bulbous head. She gasped and took a step back, earning a smile from the creature. "I'm sure your prince isn't too upset over his loss. He's probably cozied up to every harem girl on the planet by now."

She thought of Yajirobe. He may have been a pig, but he wasn't exactly attractive. She was sure that most girls would refuse to '_cozy up to him_', even if they were being paid. "Yajirobe?" she asked, her voice coming out small and frightened.

The creature laughed. "Yajirobe? That sorry excuse for a warrior? Heavens no, child. Don't you remember? I killed him months ago!"

An image flashed in her mind—something like a memory of an act that she hadn't seen happen yet. The creature stood tall over Yajirobe, pressing one of his tri-clawed feet onto his chest. Yajirobe lay gasping for air, blue in the face with tears rolling down his cheeks. He reached out towards her and in the few moments it took her to decide to reach back, the creatures tail slammed to the ground, cutting off Yajirobe's chubby little arm.

Yajirobe screamed and squirmed fervently to free himself from the monster's hold, but the more he tried, the harder this creature laughed. It slapped at him again with his tail, cutting off the other arm. And then again, and again, and again, slowly dismembering her prince piece by bloody piece.

"You tortured him," she accused.

The creature gasped and somehow managed to look offended. "On the contrary, my dear. I took it easy on that tub of lard. I could have carried on for days if I had the desire." The corners of his lips turned up into a wistful smile, as if he were imagining exactly how he would have done it. "You're little boyfriend, however, he'll die slowly."

Her mind was still reeling. What was he talking about? She didn't have a boyfriend. Yajirobe was the only person that she had ever tied herself to. Unless he meant….

"Yamcha?" she whispered.

Now the creature laughed whole-heartedly. "My, my. You really do get around, don't you? Perhaps you're not the best choice for bait. But he does seem to care so much about you. I dare say he cares more about you than he does himself—and that is saying something."

He waltzed forward and stuck two of his pale fingers under her chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. "I must admit, you do have a certain…. _Earthly_ beauty about you. You humans could almost pass for those monkeys…."

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but was cut off by another voice. A new one. Someone else was joining their conversation.

"Get your damn hands off of her," he said in a cold, calculating tone. His voice was gruff, and—for some reason—it sent chills down her spine. Not the bad kind of chills. The good ones. The ones that gather in the pit of her stomach and turn into butterflys. The ones where you know everything will be alright.

All it took was the sound of his voice for her courage to come flooding back into her veins. She even returned the creatures wicked smile, looking him right in the eye when she said, "You're in so much trouble."

The creature scowled and slapped her hard across the face, sending her flying to the ground. Her world seemed to tilt with the force of it. Her vision blurred and her head spun, but through it all, she could just barely see the silhouette of _him_ coming out of the darkness; long spiked hair, tanned skin like the color of burnt caramel, and eyes so dark that they rivaled the pits of hell.

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

"Bulma? Bulma, sweetie you have to wake up."

She groaned against her mother's voice, desperate to catch the fading wisps of her dream. It had been such an odd dream. Scary and yet somehow wonderful at the same time. "Go away," she grumbled.

Her mom wouldn't hear it. "You get up and get ready right now. You're supposed to be getting married in four hours and we need to make you look perfect."

Reality crashed around her, chasing away every detail of the dream she'd just had. Married. She was getting married.

Bunny skipped to the closet and pulled out the bulky garment bag that contained Bulma's dress. "We'll do your hair and makeup here, since you slept in," she shot her and accusatory glare. "Then you can change into the dress at the palace."

She was ushered into the shower, where she took more time than necessary as a last ditch attempt to postpone the wedding, but it wasn't long before Bunny was shrieking on the other side of the door and threatening to drag her out naked. With a defeated sigh, she shut off the water, wrapped a towel around her torso and plopped in front of the vanity. Bunny busied herself right away, twisting and braiding sections of Bulma's cin-length, blue tendrils and then polishing and painting her face.

Bulma stared straight ahead as her mother worked, trying to think of anything but what the rest of her life would be like. She thought of her childhood, she thought of Yamcha, she thought of the mystery hero of her dreams. What did he look like again?

She knitted her brows together, trying to pull it all back, but it was gone.

X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X

King Vegeta sat with the Earth's royal family in the downstairs throne room. He couldn't help but think that the Earthlings could be of some use to him in the war against Frieza. At the very least they would cause a distraction, and Frieza and his men would be so busy slaughtering the weaklings that they wouldn't get the chance to touch the true warriors.

"Perhaps my men and I will stay for a while longer," he announced. Whether he didn't notice everyone wince or if he chose to ignore it was unknown. "This planet has a lot to offer as far as scenery goes. I think we could use a little vacation after so many months of nonstop travel. Besides, there really is no telling how long it will take this woman to repair our ship."

The queen laughed a frantic, high pitched laugh. "I'm sure she can get it done in a timely manner." The last thing she wanted was for these barbarian Saiyans to stay any longer than necessary.

"Well," King Vegeta began, bringing a thoughtful hand to his chin. "I'd hate to ruin your son's wedding night."

"That tub of lard wouldn't know what to do with a woman on his wedding night even if it was spelled out for him," Vegeta said agitatedly as he entered the throne room. He had just caught the tail end of his father's conversation and was not pleased about the talk of staying on Earth longer than they had to.

"Hey! Shut your mouth!" Yajirobe bellowed.

Vegeta smirked. Getting under Yajirobe's skin had kept him entertained the entire night before. "Shall I draw you some pictures? Show you which hole is which?"

Yajirobe threw a ham bone at him, which Vegeta caught easily and crushed into a thousand splinters with just a twitch of his fingers.

"Now, now son," King Vegeta began curtly. "We're guests here. Perhaps you should try to get along?"

"Not likely."

They were all saved from further hate and discontent from the two princes when the throne room doors flung open and a small, black-haired woman ran in. She dropped into a deep bow before the two families. "Sire, Lady Bulma and her parents have arrived."

"Show them in, Chichi," the queen said with a wave of her hand.

Chichi nodded and ran back out of the room.

Not even a minute passed before Vegeta's head was swimming with the image of the hideous woman that was sure to be Yajirobe's queen. He was betting that she was a stout woman, with stubby legs, frizzy hair and maybe a few moles. They would be a match made in heaven—besides the fact that this Bulma was supposedly smart while Yajirobe was, hands down, the most idiotic creature he'd ever encountered. If it hadn't been for his father's wishes, Vegeta was sure he would have normally killed Yajirobe by now.

The doors swung open again, and this time a walkway was made for a handful of humans—mostly males. The way they were dressed and the gait of their walk suggested that they were meant to provide protection. The one in back had a scarred face and alert eyes. Vegeta was shocked at the energy emitting from him. For an Earthling, he was surprisingly powerful.

The guard was followed in by an older couple. The female had blond, puffy hair and she smiled so wide that her eyes were always closed. The man had lavender hair—a color that Vegeta had only just became familiar with when they landed on Earth—and wore glasses. There was a burning stick of some sort hanging out of his mouth and his clothes were rumpled.

They both bowed graciously to the Earth's Royal family and then looked back towards the doors expectantly.

The guard with the scarred face drew in a deep breath, as if what he was about to do caused him pain. Then he walked out and returned with a woman on his arm.

She was unlike anything Vegeta had ever seen. She was tall for a woman with chin length blue hair, wide blue eyes, and a slender figure. Someone had obviously gone through great pains to ensure her hair and makeup were perfect, but there was something missing behind the beauty. Something Vegeta couldn't quite place.

She stepped between the older couple—her parents, no doubt—and bowed to the king and queen. Then she turned to the left, positioned herself in front of Yajirobe, and kissed his hand. "Sire," she said by way of greeting.

That was it, Vegeta thought. He'd discovered it as soon as he heard her deadened tone. The thing that this beauty lacked was the spark of life. It was as if she had given up and was only running on autopilot. But what would someone like her have to be so distraught about?

And then it hit him.

"_This_ is Bulma?"

Bulma's head snapped up. There was something familiar about the man who spoke. Maybe it was his voice. Yet she was positive she'd never seen him before.

"Ah!" King Vegeta beamed, getting to his feet.

Bulma and her parents were a little alarmed by these unexpected turn of events. It was a very rare thing that someone spoke so freely in the presence of the royal family. And yet these men showed no fear, or even concern for them.

"Young Bulma!" He grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips. "I pray that your intelligence is as abundant as your beauty."

Bulma was at a complete loss. "My… intelligence?" she repeated.

King Vegeta sucked in a breath, something he always did when he was about to launch into a long winded explanation. Vegeta rolled his eyes and cut him off, delivering the short version. "We need you to fix our ship."

Her eyes lit up like the fourth of July.

Curious, Vegeta thought, that the woman would be so morose when she thought she was coming to get married, and then be so suddenly excited at the mention of having to work.

"I'd love to help," she said, clasping her hands together. Her heart was racing. This could be just the delay she was wishing for. She knew that she would have to tie the knot with Yajirobe one day, but being able to postpone the wedding for now—at least for a couple of days—was like striking gold.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer—I don't own Dragonball/Z/GT or anything associated with it. I just like fanfiction. :P

**Author's Note/Warning—Vegeta has a larger role now… so this is where the 'M' rating comes in! You have been warned. 'M' Rating = language, violence, and sexual content. **

CHAPTER THREE

Oddly Enough, Bulma didn't have to put up much of a fight to have the wedding delayed. It was actually Yajirobe's mother and father who insisted that everything be pushed back to allow time for the Saiyan's affairs to be put in order. She had a strong suspicion that they just wanted the Saiyans out of the palace as quickly as possible.

The older, more sociable Vegeta—also a King, she learned, which is why he had no fear to speak before the Earth's royal family—guided her to their ship, followed by his son, Prince Vegeta, and a procession of guards.

She couldn't believe that she missed this thing when they pulled up. True, the ship was docked on the other side of the palace, but it was massive: A large dome that housed, fed, and entertained over one hundred Saiyans. She couldn't help but to be impressed with the glossy, reinforced steel or the tinted windows. Looking at some of the wiring, she let out a wistful sigh, and ran her fingers along the plastic shielded cables. "It's wonderful," she said, beaming at the Saiyans.

Still, the damage was obvious. The outer walls of the ship were dinged and dented, a couple of the emergency evacuation pods were just barely clinging on to their docks, and two of their thrusters were completely missing. When the Navigator cranked the remaining thrusters, a loud wheezing hum echoed throughout the ship, which Bulma recognized as an electrical issue.

One of the doors opened, and the King of the Saiyans personally gave her and the Earth's royal family a tour. The first three levels were dedicated to training, though they appeared to be segregated by class (3rd, 2nd, 1st). The fourth and fifth levels were for housing, the sixth level was for dining, and the seventh was the command deck. In Bulma's opinion, it all seemed very basic. There were no TVs, no libraries. It became very clear to her that the Saiyans had no interest in these things. They just wanted to train and fight.

"You're training facilities are great," she commented, reaching for something besides the wiring to compliment. The King seemed so proud of his bland little ship and she didn't want to insult him.

He smirked under his beard. "They are crucial for us. I just wish that we didn't have to train in these conditions," he said, waving his hands out.

"You don't like training on the ship?" Bulma asked.

He shook his head. "No, that's not it. It's just that the gravity on my planet was so much heavier than this. I feel as if we're training twice as hard and only growing weaker."

The rest of the Saiyans murmured their agreement. The Prince looked absolutely livid. She made a mental note of their concerns. She wasn't prepared to promise them anything yet, but she was pretty sure she could work something out to remedy that problem. Maybe she could design some sort of gravity altering chamber.

After the tour, Bulma darted to her room and peeled off the elegant dress she'd been wearing for her first impression on Prince Yajirobe. Her mother loved that dress, but Bulma hated it. It reminded her of handcuffs. It didn't look like them and it wasn't tight by any means—it was just that that dress symbolized the official beginning of their relationship, and therefore, she hated it.

She had just balled the dress up and threw it to the floor, when the side door to her lavish bedroom popped open, and Yamcha snuck in.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, not bothering to cover herself. Yamcha had already seen it all anyway.

He shut the door behind him, easing it ever so gently so that the only sound to be heard was a barely audible _click_. Then he slid the lock home. When he turned to face her, he wore a goofy grin. "Lucky break, huh?" he asked gesturing out the window to the Saiyan's ship.

Bulma laughed and pulled on a pair a blue jeans and a plain white tank top. "Yeah, I'd say so. I might be able to drag this out long enough to postpone the wedding for at least a month."

Yamcha's goofy grin morphed into a sly one as he crept towards her. He braced on hand in the small of her back and placed the other under her chin, bringing her lips inches from his own. "Oh yeah? Does that mean that you're temporarily back on the market, Lady Bulma?"

"No," she said firmly. "It means that I, temporarily, don't have to deal with that oaf of a prince."

"Don't marry him," he pleaded, trailing small kisses down the side of her neck. "Just fix the ship, and run away with me. Choose me."

His breath was warm against her skin and sent shivers down her spine. "Yamcha."

It was meant to come out in protest, but instead sounded like she spoke his name with longing. He was encouraged by this and allowed his hands to slide down her body; over her shoulders first, lingering at her breasts, and then stopping to cup her bottom. There, he lifted her off the ground and securely wrapped her legs around his waist. Her surprised squeals were smothered by his kiss. "Stay with me," he pleaded again between assaulting kisses and ragged breaths.

Part of her wanted to kiss him back. Part of her wanted to pull him closer and allow him to take her as he had done in the past. But the other, more sensible part, wouldn't allow it. They were in the palace. It would be all too easy for them to be found out. "Yamcha, no."

He ignored her, grabbing her bottom lip between his teeth and running his tongue along it, but that was as far as he could get before she turned her head away from him.

He blinked up at her before placing her gently back on her feet. "You're serious? You would rather marry Yajirobe?"

"Yes, I'm serious, and no, I don't want to marry him. But I have too. You know I have too."

Yamcha nodded, his expression a mingled mess of confusion, dejection, and heartache. She wanted to reach out to him and reassure him that if she had a choice, she would have chosen him. Easily, hands down, she would have chosen Yamcha. But there was no use in saying as much, because that was a choice that she would never be given.

The silence was thick between them. She was growing more and more uncomfortable with each passing second.

When the air got too heavy for her to handle she whispered, "I'm sorry," then left him alone in the vast space that was her new chambers.

Outside of her room, she sucked in deep breath and braced her hands against her knees. She hated that she had to hurt Yamcha. She hated seeing that look on his face. It made her feel like a bad person when all she ever wanted to do was help people. That was her purpose after all—to help people. Why else would she put herself through this hell?

"Lover's quarrel?"

Bulma jumped, slapping one of her hands over her mouth and spinning around to look back towards her door. Prince Vegeta was there, leaning lazily against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Were you eavesdropping?" she demanded.

His eyes flashed. He didn't appreciate being spoken too in such a tone, especially by a woman who was wannabe royalty. "Of course not. You were speaking loud enough for everyone on this wing to hear."

She considered that. It couldn't be true. The majority of their conversation had been in hushed whispers. Saiyans must have heightened hearing. "So you just decided to sit back and listen?"

"Hardly," he scoffed. "I could give less of a fuck about your little love triangle drama. My father sent me to escort you back to the ship. He said to make sure you get any supplies you require."

"Why did he send you?"

He stared blankly, replaying his last sentence in his head a few times before responding. "Did I not just answer that?"

"You know what I meant," she glared.

Vegeta growled under his breath. He was getting impatient with this woman and all of her accusations and questions. "Why wouldn't he send me?" he countered.

"Well… because you're a prince. Why didn't he send someone less important?"

Finally, she said something that Vegeta agreed with, but he wasn't about to let her in on that little fact. "Believe it or not, some prince's aren't useless lumps of lard. Some of us serve a purpose."

They walked in silence after that—well, almost silence. Vegeta did have a few choice things to say about her ridiculously slow pace. "Would you speed up woman? I've met intergalactic snails that were faster than you!"

"Forgive me, _highness_," she fumed. "I apologize for not sprinting through the corridors with you."

She scowled at the back of his head. How was it possible that someone as kind as King Vegeta had managed to raise such a hateful son? She barely knew him and she could already tell that they would never get along. He was so damn bossy and arrogant. If he wasn't scowling, he had that horrible know-it-all smirk on his face that made her want to slap him.

"Don't take that tone with me, woman. You will show me respect."

Her jaw dropped and she almost tripped over her own feet. He was trying to order her around! She was the future queen of the planet and he was trying to give her orders? He wasn't even human! Caught up in her own frustration, she asked, "Show you respect? Pfth! And if I don't?"

His back stiffened and he came to a sudden halt in front of her. She had been hurrying along so fast just to keep up with him that when he stopped she slammed into his back and stumbled to the side. Vegeta's capable hands caught and steadied her roughly by her upper arms and yanked her forward so that she was looking up into the black depths of his eyes. "If you don't? I don't know. Maybe I'll let slip to your insufferable wart of a fiancé about your little boyfriend back there."

She gasped. "He is _not_ my boyfriend! He's just…"

"Just what?" he interrupted. "A friend? That may be a little worse. That just says that you don't even require a commitment before you'll let someone fuck you."

She struggle in his iron grip. If she could just manage to get her arms free she would be able to slap that smirk off of his face!

As it was, she couldn't get free, and Vegeta continued his verbal assault. "Just look at you. Your lips are still swollen from where you let that pawn kiss you. You reek of him." His smirk expanded into a smile—not a nice one that one would normally see. It was something more sinister. "I can't believe you'd sink low enough to invite a nobody like that into your bed. I bet-," he began, his eyes darkening, "I bet that I could fuck you right here and you wouldn't say a thing against it."

She raised her knees, aiming for a man's most sensitive spot, but he blocked her effortlessly. In the time it took her to register that she'd missed, Vegeta slammed her back into the wall. Her head hit the brick and stars floated before her eyes. She didn't understand how any of this was possible. He was so strong and _fast_.

A single, traitor tear rolled down her cheek, giving away her fears. He smiled again lowered his head to hers. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping against hope that he wouldn't kiss her. She didn't want to have the taste of him polluting her mouth.

Something soft and moist touched her face, right above the left side of her jaw. She opened her eyes and saw that Vegeta was running his tongue up the length of her cheek, licking away her tear.

"Do you know what this is that your experiencing, woman?" he asked. His voice was nothing more than a husky whisper.

The question confused her. She could list off a lot of things that she was experiencing right now. Outrage and revulsion would be at the top of her list.

"Fear," he answered for her. "Fear breeds respect. And I'm here to tell you that you. Will. Respect. Me."

He shoved away from her, leaving her shaken against the wall, and continued down the corridor as if nothing happened. She heard his dark laughter echo back to her from the other end.

All of that, she thought. He put her through all of that just to make a point?

She sniffed, gathered the remainder of her dignity and walked in the direction of the ship.


End file.
